


Walking Disasters

by voxane



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Infidelity, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Public Sex, Recreational Drug Use, Self Harm, emotionally repressed amorphous otayuri, heavy handed food metaphors, past JJBella, past jjbek
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-26
Updated: 2017-11-01
Packaged: 2018-12-20 06:33:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 14,050
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11915169
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/voxane/pseuds/voxane
Summary: “It’s easy to like JJ.” Isabella spoke simply, nursing her martini with a delicate wrist. “Almost everyone does. JJ is a brand. It’s hard to love JJ.” She placed the glass down missing the coaster slightly. Her nails made an uncomfortable scratching noise scrambling for her glass. “I’m thinking of leaving him, Otabek.”From him, to her, to him. All the highs and lows and everything in between.





	1. I Can't Offer You a Rescue

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Blownwish](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blownwish/gifts).



> A huge thank you to Blownwish, who was single handedly the inspiration for this. Your work is so electric and moving and leaves me reeling! I’m so excited you reached out to me, and I loved screaming about my favorite canadian baby boy. You’re amazing!
> 
> I don’t have enough thanks in the fucking world to shower Softieghost with. She is such a completely thorough Beta who pushes me in the best way. Reigns in all my commas and, Honestly? I need it. (I cut it down to ONE honestly aren’t you proud of me?) Thank you SO SO Much for letting me scream, for being so invested, and all the help. You are such a gem and I’m so happy to be your friend!

“It’s easy to like JJ,” Isabella spoke simply, and nursed her martini with a delicate wrist. “Almost everyone does. JJ is a brand. It’s hard to love JJ.” She placed the glass down missing the coaster slightly. Her nails made an uncomfortable scratching noise scrambling for her glass. “I’m thinking of leaving him, Otabek.”

Otabek stayed very stiff. When the bartender asked him if wants anything, he orders a martini for himself. He clears his throat and fusses with the cuffs of his suit jacket. Isabella offers him a forced smile, her lipstick perfect despite drinking.

“I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. You can forget I said anything.” her breath shook on the last syllable, and choose to drown out her own own discomfort with Bombay Sapphire.

“No, I was caught off guard.” Otabek nodded at the bartender and took a firm hold of his own glass. “I’ll always listen. I figured you'd be with him.” She still had a smile painted tight on her face. Her and Jean-Jacques were both like that. They both always felt the need to smile.

“JJ gets sloppy. I’m not surprised he's like this tonight, he was in a bad spot after today. I didn’t want to be there for it.” She never took her eyes off of the olive in her glass, poking it with her tiny straw.

“It’s the gala, after all.” Otabek wouldn’t be lying if he didn’t tend to indulge more at the Gala himself. This was certainly not his first drink, but he was quite good at holding his liquor.

“It’s not cute, Otabek. Not like Chris dancing. He screams and cries. He’s asked me to sleep with him.” Otabek frowned. JJ made a big deal to make sure everyone knew that he wasn’t having sex, a show of how devout he was. “I’m sick of it. I’m sick of fighting. I’m sick of bargaining with him. I think he’s with someone right now, Otabek.” She downed the rest of her drink, it went down her throat thick like a milkshake. “I saw him with Yuri.”

“Katuski?” Otabek couldn’t envision. Yes, Katsuki was the reigning sloppy drunk of the Gala, maybe it was birds of a feather. But even at his worst he couldn’t possibly imagine Yuuri ever leaving Victor's side, and-

“No.” Isabella inhaled again. “Plisetsky.”

Otabek dropped his drink clear out of his hand. He didn’t flinch when it shattered.

* * *

“Baby, you know you good you looked out there?” JJ had his arms tangled in Yuri’s shredded tank top, tugging at every fiber to get more handfuls of skin. “You looked delicious, sinful.” JJ purred, as Yuri writhed against him, grunts barely escaping through grit teeth.

"You look even better under me.” JJ loomed over him, his movements uncoordinated. He just had to grab at every part of Yuri he could, it was senseless and he craved it like chocolate. Yuri was burning, and utterly delicious.

“Shut up,” It was the first thing Yuri said to him, and Jean-Jacques only moved his face closer. Yuri could smell the vile mixture of sugar and alcohol all over him, but he still moved to rut against him.

“Can’t help it. You’re so good Yuri, so beautiful.” JJ planted hot kisses over Yuri’s jaw, and neck before leaving his head rested against his shoulder blade. “So good Yuri. So so so good. I wish I could skate like you.” He murmured, babbling as he ground his hard dick into his leather-clad thigh.

“Don’t make this about skating. I thought you wanted to fuck me, can we get on with that?” Yuri pushed JJ off of him, rolling him to his side. JJ let himself be moved with little complaint, He let his arm drape lazily over him. His eyes were glassy like he was looking through Yuri. But they had a little sparkle as Yuri grunted and lifted his hips off the bed to wriggle out of his pants.

“Even your cock is gorgeous,” JJ murmured, fumbling to his knees. His hands seem to slide right off of his belt buckle before he felt Yuri grab his wrist.

“I didn’t take you for such a fucking lush. You’d give piggy a run for his money.” Yuri sighed, taking Jean-Jacques ’s belt off of him, giving him enough access so he could pull out his own dick. Just barely shifting down his pants so he could grind it against Yuri’s.

“You sure about this, JJ?” Yuri looked up at him, his flushed face and bloodshot eyes. Yuri didn’t want to stop, but he wanted to at least give JJ an out. It made Yuri comfortable that the odds seemed in his favor.

“And leave you here, cock crying?” JJ milked a bead of precum out of Yuri, a devil's grin on his face at the sound of his moan. “How could I be so cruel?” Yuri rolled his eyes to the back of his head until he saw spots in the corner of his vision. He didn’t want to look at JJ, and he didn’t want to admit that his dirty talk fucking worked.

“Get some fingers in me, asshole. There’s lube in my blazer.” JJ fished for it, manhandling the garment a little more roughly that Yuri would like.

“You were prepared, kitten.” JJ slurred as he squeezed the lube all over his fingers. “Planning on getting some tonight?” He rubbed a finger against Yuri’s hole, and Yuri hissed as he pressed in. He rubbed in all the ways he'd do to himself. He tried to ghost the motions he knew he liked at an angle he wasn’t used to. JJ slid in another finger. “I’m surprised you’re not with Altin. You two were sexy out there.” JJ heard a sob from Yuri, and even in his liquor slow mind, he knew it wasn’t good.

“He said no.” JJ stared down at Yuri, his fingers still inside of him. He stopped moving as he watched fat tears roll down Yuri’s cheek. “He didn’t fucking want me, okay? Can you just get on with it and fuck me? Come _on_. ” JJ was powerless to turn that request. He was powerless to Yuri with his arm swung over his eyes and mascara marbled tears streaming down his face. JJ didn’t bother to take off his pants. He doused his dick in lube, not caring about the stains. He fucked into Yuri, relentlessly, drowning in his screams. His brain was so fuzzy in the alcohol-drenched limbo of cognizance. The sound of Yuri's screams reverberated his need to feel anything, and they vibrated in his bones. He felt like in this moment he really understood Yuri.

And if that wasn’t all kinds of fucked up. JJ found it incredibly hard to care when he came deep inside Yuri’s tight ass.

* * *

When Jean-Jacques Leroy met Otabek Altin he was worse for wear. His face had a clammy sleepless film and his eyes were sunken and hollow. Jean-Jacques can’t remember if he showered the day before. Honestly? He doesn’t really want to even introduce himself, but he has an image to maintain and this is his rink. Jean-Jacques steeled himself, reciting scripted introductions in his head before he realizes he was a breath away from Otabek whose hand was outstretched as he spoke first.

“JJ,” He said, offering a smile. He looked really cool. He wore a leather jacket like a second skin and had crisp undercut that JJ was completely enamored with already. “I’m excited to meet you. Your programs last year were impressive. I hope to learn a lot from you.” JJ knew he probably looked stupid as he tried to filter the words in his mind, figure out what ones were the right ones to say. He didn’t say any at all. He fucking blew it, but that’s okay. He could try again tomorrow. He bet Otabek didn’t know the quad sal. He could teach him that and then Otabek would definitely like him.

Otabek had to like him. Because JJ liked Otabek a lot. He skated so furiously, it was so unique and different and unequivocally cool. He was cool in everything he did and he always listened to JJ. Even when JJ knew he was talking too much and couldn’t do anything to stop. Otabek was cool because he made music, something JJ always, always wanted to try. Otabek’s cool because he somehow got his hands on a motorcycle for a weekend, and drove JJ all around the countryside where they wouldn’t get caught. JJ laughed the whole time, he begged for Otabek to let him drive. He staunchly refused.

“You don’t know what you’re doing, you’ll go too fast and hurt yourself.”

Yeah. Otabek always knew what’s best for him.

* * *

JJ kind of hated the off-season. It was so much harder to work toward anything when there wasn’t a hard and fast time keeper. He had to find ways to fill the time because stopping simply wasn’t an option. But this off-season was different. Otabek was here, so it wasn’t so bad. It was the highlight of his day no matter what. When he was down at the animal shelter promoting an adoption event, or at the studio downtown looking at design samples for active wear he was endorsing - They were just distractions between texts and calls from Otabek. Even at those weary sunrise moments when his brain itched with new ideas and he had to go to the rink to see it realized, he was always waiting for those times with Otabek. They would meet at the diner and eat greasy food that was never very good but somehow tasted more like home than any of mama’s cooking.

“I’m playing at a club tonight. You wanna come?” Otabek gave him a curious look, words bookended by bites of dry toast. “Are you too tired? You don’t have to.” Tired was an understatement, Jean-Jacques was exhausted. He felt light-headed despite the full stomach and the coffee he was nursing. He put so much sugar in it and Otabek gave him a look.

“Yeah!”

* * *

Otabek’s set was so good. Jean-Jacques didn’t know much about electronic music, but everyone in the club was vibrating with energy after Otabek got off. The feeling was completely addicting and the rush made him feel like flying. Otabek’s set had to be good because the bartender got him a drink even though it’s no secret he’s was underage. It had to be REALLY good because he got one for Jean-Jacques too. It made his stomach fall in a way like when he knew he over-rotated a jump and it was really going to hurt. But Otabek drank his and JJ didn’t want to seem like a loser. So he drank, even though it tasted like a fizzy pine tree. It made his jaw hurt, but his head felt light. Not in a bad way. Not the tired dizzy feeling like sleepless nights or forgetting to eat. More like a roller coaster.

JJ decided he likes to drink. It’s easier to talk to Otabek and Otabek talks a lot more than usual. They talk so much that they end up stopping at a park even though it’s closer to sunrise than midnight. Jean-Jacques doesn’t care that he could get in trouble. Nothing in the entire world, future and past, seemed more important right now than lazily swinging with Otabek. Nothing was more important than laughing so loud like they’re the only two people in the entire city. There was something so liberating in the way sticky summer night air soaked into his skin. It made him feel alive. He felt capable of quad axel. He felt beyond physics, larger than life.

That feeling fell straight through the bottom of his heart, JJ swore he could hear the thud on the ground, right in time with a condom flying out of Otabek’s jacket pocket into the damp grass.

Otabek lept off his swing, JJ skidded to a stop.

He pocketed the condom, and turned to JJ with a shrug. “Wishful thinking.”

“Does it happen a lot?” JJ’s mouth moved much faster than his mind. “At the club, do you...with a lot of girls.”

“No. Not girls, usually.” Otabek looked off to the side and Jean-Jacques swore he could feel a breeze from his fluttering lashes before Otabek fixed his gaze squarely on him again.

Oh.

JJ’s mouth went dry. He felt hot under Otabek’s eyes and under God’s judgment. He felt the same kind of nauseous nervous like looking at porn sites, late at night under his blanket. He always used an incognito window, but double triple checked to make sure all his tracks or covered. He had no idea what he would ever do if his dad found out. JJ spent so many nights, coming into his hand and licking it dry so there’s no trail. He’s gotten used to the taste.

“What’s it like?” Jean-Jacques gripped the chains of the swing a little harder and scuffed his shoes on the worn rubber mat as he fidgeted. Each one of Otabek’s steps made his heart pound out of his chest. When Otabek put his hands over his, gripping the chain with him, he couldn’t hear his own thoughts over the sound ringing in his ears.

“I can show you.”

* * *

JJ couldn’t discern how long they’d been tangled together like this. Otabek pressed lips against his, and not soon after JJ was bent over this slide with his pants around his ankles and Otabek’s fingers deep inside of him. JJ lost sight of anything that wasn’t Otabek. He couldn't find anything quantifiable about it, the entire night was so surreal. Jean-Jacques had thought about his first time before- a beautiful girl in a beautiful hotel suite. He thinks he wants to get married at La Toundra. He never expected to be manhandled in a playground by Otabek. But he trusted him so much, and Otabek set his body on fire. He felt so full, Otabek could reach places on him that he couldn’t get to himself, and he used lube so it wasn’t as rough when JJ did it alone. Otabek’s hands felt so good all over him, inside and out. JJ gripped the sides of the slide so hard, moaning through his bit lips.

“It feels really good, Beks.” JJ didn’t really know what to say, but his throat was burning with the need to talk. The need to hear Otabek, other than his soft pants and grunts as he played with his ass.

“Yeah? I’m glad. My first time was kind of rough. Are you ready for me?” JJ couldn’t answer that. Was he ready for any of this? God in heaven, no. He could barely keep his head above water. He was absolutely swimming, and fear sloshed in him like cold water in an empty stomach. But was he ready for Otabek? Always.

“Yeah, do it.” JJ screwed his eyes and ground his teeth together, even though Otabek didn’t move yet. He should’ve waited because he needed something to bite down on when Otabek pushed it. It hurt. It really really hurt. Otabek used what seemed like the whole bottle of lube on him, but it the pain was splitting. He felt completely torn apart.

JJ tried his best not to scream, or flinch. But he knew hisses escaped through grit teeth. Otabek pushed himself as far as he could inside, and that kinda felt good for a second. He could feel the sweat soaked fabric of Otabek’s t-shirt against his back. A leather-clad arm rested on his shoulder. He was surprised Otabek was still wearing his jacket.

“Here. Close a nostril and sniff. It’ll make it easier.” Jean-Jacques desperately wanted the luxury to hem and haw, like how he nursed the drink at the club. But he hurt so bad and Otabek said it’d make it better and he’d never ever say no. So when Otabek held the small plastic bottle under his nose, he did as he was told.

The pain ebbed almost instantly. JJ's senses melted together into something amorphous. His head felt floaty, like an underwater flip. He couldn’t help but get a dopey grin on his face, and his body melted into Otabek’s. Somewhere in his fuzzy haze, JJ started to feel the arousal set it. He noticed he was moaning, and tried to keep quiet once he was aware of his jaw again. Each of Otabek’s thrusts cleared his head a little more. Even when he was aware of his surroundings again, two feet back on the ground, it didn’t hurt like it did before. Otabek was slamming into him and it was so so so good.

“Otabek, what was that.” Jean-Jacques’ voice was still hazy, distant.

“Don’t worry about it.” Otabek murmured, his hands slipped on JJ's sweaty hips. “Just want you to feel good.” And God if that wasn’t a shot through the heart. Jean-Jacques moaned louder, rutting his hips back against Otabek. He felt good, he had to show Otabek how good he felt.

“Fuck, Jean. ” JJ felt Otabek pulsate inside of him, and just the thought of it made him completely lose it. He screamed, his hands slipping so he slammed his head against the cheap plastic of the slide. He let out a strangled moan with each thrum of his cock, and he knew he got come all over his shirt. It couldn't be avoided, not with Otabek’s broad body on top of him. It was uncomfortable, and Otabek was sweaty. He smelled like everyone at the club, like that awful drink he had. And now cum. JJ breathed it all in and sighed deeply. He loved it. Otabek pulled out of him, and JJ made a small gasp at feeling suddenly empty. He pulled the condom off his dick and JJ’s mouth watered just a bit at the sight.

“Come’on.” Otabek’s speech was little slurred. Usually, each syllable was so purposeful and concise, Jean-Jacques was so proud he did this to him. He loved hearing Otabek's voice soft on the edges. JJ grabbed his outstretched hand.

“We should get out of here. Just in case.” Otabek tossed the condom to a nearby trash, hiking up his pants and JJ followed suit. Every limb felt heavy. His stomach dropped with the impending feeling of how bad it was going to be when he got home. His parents might not catch him, though. It’s not like JJ hasn’t gone out at night before, but he could already feel his ass sting, and God’s eyes on him.

“Did you have fun?” Otabek flashed him a smile, and JJ couldn’t help but beam. Nothing else mattered more in the entire world than that. Otabek’s smile drowned out any pain, or fear, or any darkness the future had to offer. JJ fluffed out his shirt as if he could do anything to look less fucked out.

“Yeah, tonight was really fun.”

“Don’t tell anyone about this, okay?” Otabek dangled the plastic bottle before shoving it back pocket of his jeans. “I only do it in the offseason. I don’t usually need it.” JJ had so many questions but just nodded anyways. If Otabek said it was okay, then he didn’t have to worry.

* * *

The day Otabek left, JJ doesn’t cry. He wanted to be cool. Well, he doesn’t cry in front of Otabek. He just scratched the back of his head, and shook his hand.

“You’ll text me right? All the time?” JJ knows he sounds desperate, he can’t get the tones out of his voice no matter how much he steels himself. Otabek places a firm hand on his shoulder.

“I’ll do what I can Jean, you know how I am.” JJ smiled, and Otabek gives him a small wave.

Then he was gone.

JJ's days got drenched in grey, and they drip together into when he was skating and when he wasn't. It was his only timekeeper. That, and the sunny rare moments where Otabek’s name would light up on his phone screen. Between his listless naps and lazy pointless scrolling through his Instagram feed (all things he knew he’d seen already), he thought maybe he’d make a hair appointment. He'd get an undercut just like his. That’d be next thing he’d talk to Otabek about. And Jean-Jacques kept planning the next thing. And the next thing and the next thing and the next thing.

* * *

“A lot of his tantrums were about you.” Otabek found himself with Isabella on the terrace. She discarded her heels and dangled bare legs off the balcony. She shimmied out of her tights at one point. Otabek pretended not to watch. He lost his suit jacket and tie as well, sitting next to her.

“He broke his phone after we got off the plane. Because you didn’t text him back.” Otabek nodded. He recalled that JJ had sent him three or four texts almost immediately, he was relentless. Otabek couldn’t keep up. “He just threw it at the hotel room wall, going on and on about how you didn’t care about him.”

“I’m sorry.” He wanted to put his hand on hers. He didn’t.

“Stop it. You know it’s not you.” She didn’t look at Otabek, but he saw the ocean waves reflected in her eyes. “It’s not you. It’s not me.” She pushed a strand of hair behind her ears, even though the sea breeze would just shove it out of place again.

“He’d find something else to lose sleep over. Something else to put all of himself into. You or me, or skating. It’s never been anyone. It’s always been him. Nothing I can do will help him anymore.” She looked at him, smiling still. “I don’t want it like this. I don’t hate him, I want to see JJ happy. I want to make JJ happy.” She brought a hand to her face and dragged it down slowly. She smeared her lipstick.

“I’m just so tired.” The waves in her eyes were not the oceans mirror. Otabek held her hand as she cried.

* * *

There were at least 3 good reasons Jean-Jacques was in Russia. Some awful interview, a brand endorsement, a photo shoot - That’s what he kept telling himself to justify this trip. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he knew there was only one. He made every public appearance, tweeting every tweet to prove he did what he came here for. Like a map that he drafted for himself more than anything. Something to lead him back to his hotel room and not feel bad about the treasure behind the door. He took a shallow breath before he slid his key card and stepped in his room. Inside, sprawled on his bed, he found Yuri Plisetsky looking an absolute vision in nothing but neon purple briefs sucking barbecue sauce off his fingertips.

“What took you so long? I ordered room service to your bill.” Yuri took a ravenous bite out of one the chicken wings. “I thought you said you had one interview.” He talked with his mouthful, and JJ was nothing but enamored.

“Sorry kitten. I didn’t mean to make you wait.” Jean-Jacques sat next to Yuri, unable to keep his hands off the expanse of his back. His pristine ivory skin was so inviting, JJ was reminded of storybook clouds of heaven.

“Make it up to me. I ordered Champagne too.” Yuri nodded his hand to the counter, the bottle sweating in the almost melted bucket of ice. JJ could already feel his spirits lifting like the tiny carbonated bubbles trapped inside. He grinned ear to ear, so wide it hurt the ends of his mouth. He grabbed the bottle and used his nail to cut the foil. He made rough work of opening it and Yuri yelped as the cork whizzed past his ear.

“Cheers, Yuri!” JJ screamed, laughing far too loud as he kept his thumb over the top to spray down every inch of Yuri's skin.

“What the hell is wrong with you!” Yuri shielded his eyes as he growled at him. JJ was already pouring the remaining champagne in glasses. Yuri snatched one.

“It's fine, we can shower together! Maybe I'll just lick you clean. Like a little kitty cat.” In busied himself with sips of champagne and sloppy wet kisses on any part of Yuri he could reach.

"I always forget how obnoxious you are.” Yuri tries to squirm away, mostly for show.

“But you keep coming back. You love it.” JJ drained his glass and almost slammed it on the end table. He needed both hands on Yuri. He needed all that skin, wet and slick under his fingers. Yuri felt amazing, and the sensations made Jean-Jacques' heart swell. He couldn’t wait to run his tongue anywhere he could reach. He had to close the space between him and Yuri, he had to feel his microfiber covered hardness against his leg like he needed air or gold medals in glass cases.

“Maybe you could treat a girl right and stay awhile this time.” Yuri pushed JJ away, just enough to breathe, but rutted his hips against JJ's leg the process. “I know we’re each other's dirty little secret but Jesus fucking Christ.” JJ gave Yuri a forlorn look as Yuri started ripping at JJ’s shirt not much caring that the buttons popped off. JJ couldn’t say he did either.

“We have all night, Princess, don’t you worry.” JJ used both hands to play with Yuri’s hair. Yuri scoffed in response and moved to yank down JJ’s pants. He had his mouth hanging open, it made JJ shudder. God! Soon he'd have his pouty lips all over his cock-

“JJ what the fuck is this.”

Oh. Right.


	2. You be my calm I'll be your pneumatic drill

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to my dear dear Thoughtsappear for Beta reading for me and reminding me what tense is. You're the best, doll!

“Beka!” Yuri had adrenaline coursing throughout his entire body. All the cheering was so loud it was deafening, ringing in his ears, it just made him more keyed up. He had never skated faster off the ice, so fast past Yakov’s yelling that he couldn’t discern words. Yuri’s hands shook as he fumbled with the laces of his skates. He couldn't get Otabek’s smirk out of his mind and the beats of his music still vibrating through his bones and all the sensations went straight to his dick. He had to find Otabek right now. Yuri knew this moment wasn’t just his. It was _theirs._ So when Otabek walked into the locker room, Yuri leaped right into his arms.  
  
“Beka!” Yuri immediately wrapped his arms around his neck and ground his half hard cock into his thigh. The look on Otabek’s face wasn’t exactly what he hoped. His eyes weren’t clouded with lust. He even looked...sad?  
  
“Yuri.”

Yuri usually loved how Otabek could say so much with so few words. But the tone he said his name in gave him chills. The bad kind.

“It’s cool Beka, no one is here. No one's gonna come in here, we can go to my room.” Yuri had to keep talking, he knew he could put Otabek at ease. They both wanted this. He had to. They drove together on his bike, they talked about feelings and stuff Yuri couldn’t talk to anyone else about. It was special. Otabek was also super cool and hot as hell. This is what liking someone was? Right?  
  
Yuri stood on his tiptoes, reaching his mouth to Otabek’s. The kiss wasn’t electric or anything like the movies. Yuri swiped his tongue against Otabek’s lips and they were pursed shut.  
  
“Beka?”

He gently pushed Yuri’s face away from him, and Yuri could feel his heart fall through his chest. He just didn’t understand. Everything they did, the hoodie Otabek gave him, the fucking _glove._

“Yura, I’m sorry. I just don’t thin-” Yuri shoved him away.  
  
“Yeah, whatever. Fuck off.” He didn’t mean it, but he fucking felt it. So he stomped off before Otabek could make him feel any worse for all of this.

He felt fire in his blood, and tears brimming behind his eyes. God no, he couldn’t cry in public _again_. He felt so fucking stupid, and he just wanted to hit something. So of course the universe to do everything to make this situation worse and he rounded the corner to JJ Le-fucking-Roy. He had the nerve to whistle at him, looking Yuri up and down.

“Looking good out there, Kitten.” JJ got up in his space, placing a hand on his bare shoulder. JJ smelled like sugar and rubbing alcohol. It was disgusting, but Yuri didn’t hate it.

“Why the long face, baby? Gold looks good on you.” JJ placed a hand on his still half hard cock, and Yuri grit his teeth. 

“Princess, it’ll be-”

Yuri jammed his tongue into JJ’s throat. He just needed to stop fucking talking.

* * *

Being in Canada made Otabek feel seasick. He had never stepped foot into the country without skating as the end goal, a purpose to better himself. Staring into a cardboard box of Isabella Yang’s designer shoes in the living room he only remembered from of all of the pictures JJ would text; he wasn’t sure this was better for anyone.

“You didn’t have to do this Otabek.” She smiled at him, it got less convincing every time.

Otabek knew he didn’t have to do this, but the image of Isabella dragging all her things out box by box, stepping over snow banks in apple red pumps made his stomach churn in the opposite rotation. It was just a degree more than the discomfort of being here in the first place.

“You’re....not going to tell him? I’m not trying to judge, I’m just,” Otabek drew his lips taut and brow furrowed, searching for the words.  
  
“I know it’s shitty.” Isabella looks at Otabek wide eyes, like she thought Otabek was ridiculous for thinking even slightly otherwise. “It’s the only way though. If he asked me to stay I would.” She hauled out a box far too large for her delicate frame, but she hoisted it with such purpose that Otabek wouldn’t dare interrupt her momentum.  
  
“Do you think he’ll handle it okay? You just leaving without a word?” Otabek watched her heave the box into the hatchback of her Mazda, she struggled and let out a sigh when she dropped it with a thud.  
  
“You did. He kept going.”

* * *

“They’re just bruises, kitten. We’re athletes.” JJ didn’t make eye contact with Yuri, but he smiled and reached for his briefs.  
  
“I’d love to hear what kind of jumps you’re flubbing to get bruises on your inner thighs. There are cuts here JJ, what the _fuck._ ” Yuri grabbed JJ’s wrist, fighting for  direct eye contact. JJ would do anything to fight it. He closed his eyes at one point, his smile never wavered.  
  
“Old injuries, baby. It’s not a big deal, I don’t hurt. Let’s have fun, Yuri, I’ll make you feel good. Yuri please.” He put his free hand on Yuri’s face. He wouldn’t flinch, he wouldn’t falter, he wouldn’t panic. Smile tight, his eyes wavering, he was sure. He wouldn’t let his features betray him, he had to make it good for Yuri. Had to make him stay.  
  
Yuri’s mouth twisted into a frown. He placed a hand on the inside of JJ’s thigh and traced over some of the glass pink scars and mulberry bruises. JJ immediately shoved a hand down his underwear, gripping Yuri to make sure he was hard too.  
  
“You want it baby, you want me.” JJ leaned in, purring into Yuri’s ear. “I make it good for you, I make you come. I know you’re not a kid, sweetheart, I treat you right.”

The text messages were so burned into his brain there was an after image. 

_I missed you before you left Otabek, I wanted to say bye!_

_I didn’t see you all night at the Gala, were you with Yuri ;)))?_

JJ knew full well he wasn’t. But he wanted to hear from Otabek.

 _Jean, he’s 15. It wouldn’t be right, he can’t make that kind of choice right now._  
  
For the first time in his entire life, JJ didn’t text back. He was 15 once, too. So was Otabek. He knew that.

He saw Yuri’s mouth twist into something like anger, but not quite. There was clear passion in his eyes though, and JJ knew he’d done it. Yuri grabbed his face, and stuck his tongue down his throat. He moaned so loud into JJ’s mouth it felt like a scream. 

* * *

 “Did you know how fucked up JJ was?” Otabek frowned at the end of the other line. He and Bella stopped to get some food, Otabek took the call in the bathroom. His feet stuck to the linoleum tile a bit. He hated the sensation of the resistance, but kept pacing.  
  
“Like, I’m not even trying to me be mean or whatever. He has legit issues.” Yuri’s voice makes him a little uncomfortable. They hadn’t talked on the phone in...a while. Yuri was texting less, and Otabek couldn’t remember the last time they made time for a ‘skype date’.  
  
“He flipped on me. Like...fuck, Otabek. I didn’t know what to do. We’re supposed to do an interview with Piggy but I feel....bad, about it.” He heard Yuri inhale. “I think I’m scared.”  
  
Otabek wished he had the words. He hoped his silence came off as his typical ‘man of few words’, schtick, rather than he didn’t have them. He caught his own gaze in the mirror, and he looked weary.  
  
“I’m pretty scared too, Yuri.” He murmured, leaning against the worn tile. He closed his eyes, and sucked in a deep breath. The acidic smell of cheap chemical cleaner burned in his nostrils.  
  
“Was he always like this Otabek? Why hasn’t anyone done anything?” Otabek clenched his jaw tightly.  
  
“I don’t know.. I didn’t know it was bad until Barcelona.”

“What happened in Barcelona?”

Otabek’s stomach did a flip, but the sensation of getting caught in his own trap quickly melted to anger when he realized Yuri wasn’t playing cute and stupid. He honestly didn’t fucking get it.

“A lot. Yuri. I have to go.” Otabek barely waited for a good bye before tapping his finger on the end call button. He looked at himself in the mirror one more time, fussed his with his hair and took a deep breath. 

He went back to sit across from Isabella in the worn down vinyl booths of the familiar diner. The jukebox in the corner still didn’t work, and they never repainted the hideous yellow walls even though they started peeling. She was nursing a coffee, Otabek saw the reflection of a small stack of pink sweet n low packets crumpled up next to her in the white porcelain mug. He offered her a smile.

* * *

Yuri woke up because JJ tossed in his sleep more than even _he_ did. He needed the blanket on, then he’d kick it off. He wrapped his arms around the pillow and stayed for only a moment before he’d flip to the other side, light sighs tickling Yuri’s neck.  
  
“Go to sleep asshole, you’re keeping me up.” Yuri moved to hit JJ in the head with a pillow, but he didn’t put any force behind it.  
  
“ ‘m sorry.” JJ murmured, and it was so soft and resigned, something about it broke Yuri’s heart. “Can’t sleep.”  
  
“Yeah I figured that one out, dumb ass.” Yuri huffed, wiggling closer to JJ. Their arrangement was strange. They seldom had time to stick around, and Yuri never had time to acknowledge post orgasm feelings, much less process them. Yuri grabbed his phone, with skaters all across the goddamn world there was at least a distraction at any hour. He felt the bed shift, and saw the soft glow that told him JJ was doing the same.

Yuri lazily scrolled through twitter, seeing who he could pick fights with; give him something to do now, maybe in the morning. He mostly was waiting for the LED glow to make his eyes burn so much he had to close them.

“ _Crisse!_ ”  
  
Yuri turned to JJ, his eyes were wide, fixated on his phone screen but didn’t really seem focused on it at the same time. His mouth was barely open, but Yuri could hear his labored breathing.  
  
“What’s wrong?” Yuri looked at him, blinking slowly. JJ didn’t even seem to hear him, he kept looking at his phone. His breathing became more frantic, his eyes more crazed. Yuri moved behind him to look at the screen. There was just a picture of an immaculate living room, something that looked like a display more than anything. There was just one accompanying text.  
  
_I am so sorry_

“JJ?” Yuri didn’t understand. He had no idea what this room was. Why JJ looked like he couldn't breathe. JJ, who normally he’d pay good money to make stop talking wasn’t saying a goddamn thing. It was weird, and it kinda freaked Yuri out. But he just kept panting, and shaking, and muttering some shit in french. He acted like Yuri wasn’t even fucking there.

“Do you want me to go?” Yuri tried really hard not to sound as aggravated as he was. It didn’t matter that he wasn’t doing a good job because JJ _still_ wasn’t looking at him. Before he could even try to goad a response, JJ screamed a guttural, pained noise as he snapped his phone clear in half. The moment Yuri saw blood his body moved before his mind.

“Don’t fucking do that.” Yuri grabbed his wrists. He knew he was talking too loud, but it was all Yuri knew to fucking do. He looked to JJ’s face and it made him run cold. He wasn’t just crying, he was completely sobbing. His shoulders shook and silent wails fell out of his gaping mouth. Yuri was so unequipped for any of this. He couldn’t even fucking understand why any of this was happening.  
  
“I fucked up. God, I fucked up so bad. I’m so fucking worthless.” JJ struggled against Yuri’s grip and and Yuri had to put all of his weight into it.  
  
“JJ, I don’t know what you’re talking about. You need to calm down.” Yuri could feel his own blood pressure rise, the sensations of panic bubbling in his stomach. He knew for once he couldn’t let his emotions run rampant. He tried to think of all the things his grandpa would tell him, whenever he screamed and yelled.  
  
“It’s...it’s gonna be okay, yeah? Can you hear me? JJ, say something to me okay?” Yuri rubbed small circles into the back of JJs hands. He finally got JJ to look at him.

* * *

The air in the car was thick, yet JJ felt dizzy. No matter how much he tried, he felt like he couldn’t get enough oxygen in his lungs. He watched the trees go by in the rear view, occasionally trying to sneak a look to see if his mother's expression changed. Her knuckles were white around the steering wheel, so he didn’t need to see her face to know her lips were pursed into a thin line and her brows angry around her eyes. JJ had never seen his mother so angry before, and he never wanted it to happen again.  
  
They drove past the Dairy Queen, which they always stopped at whenever they drove out to the walk in. JJ sunk a little lower into the faux leather seat, trying to focus on the soft voices of the barely audible talk radio. He had no idea what his mom was going to do, what she was going to tell his dad. Anxiousness pooled in his stomach, and he shoved his hands between his thighs. He winced as he rubbed against the butterfly bandages.

“Stop that, you’re going to make it worse.” It was the first thing his mom said, JJ looked up and her face was contorted into a frustration that was so unfamiliar. It didn’t even look like her.  
  
“Sorry Mama.” JJ muttered, staring at his tired reflection as they pulled into their driveway.  His mom turned the Jeep off, but kept staring forward and didn’t lock the doors. JJ turned to her, knowing he should look more scared and more ashamed of himself. His mother turned to him. She looked as tired as he felt.  
  
“JJ. This can’t happen again.” JJ was so used to his mother's comfortable tones. She was always the one JJ could talk to about anything, and she’d respond with softness and understanding. The lack thereof made JJ’s heart sink. He wondered if he’d ever feel that way again. He looked at her and nodded.  
  
“Yes, Mama.” She unlocked the doors.  
  
“Don’t talk to your father about this.”  
  
“Yes, Mama.”

* * *

JJ didn’t know why he was surprised. Of course everyone left, he made people leave. Otabek left, his mother as he knew her, left. Bella now too. But JJ made this, JJ was the bad one. JJ cheated on her, JJ yelled at her, JJ scared her. Of course she left.  
  
He made her leave.  
  
“Do you want me to go?”

God fuck, no no no no. Why does this keep happening, after everything, everything he ruined,he’s left with nothing. He keeps bringing people in and bringing them down. He can’t help it. He was so good at the beginnings. But eventually he always destroyed it. He destroyed everything. Yuri would leave too. It made his blood boil that he kept on doing this. Why he had to always pick at the scab. He doesn’t know why his body moves the way it does. He knew that his need to rip and tear and feel would only make himself feel worse. But he does it anyways, he can’t fucking stop.

“It’s...okay........hear me?......say something........?” Yuri was still here.. There was a feeling on the back of his hand. It was soft. JJ really liked it. He blinked, taking in a huge breath. He could still feel the skin on his hand. He heard something. Maybe russian. Yuri was here, he could feel and hear him and he was _here._ JJ had to laugh. He barely knew russian, Yuri knew that.  
  
“Oh my god you’re losing it.” Yuri moved his hands to his face, and JJ had to smile just a bit. Yuri Plistesky of all people making jokes after experiencing the rolling shit show of....everything. Of JJ. He could still feel the tears streaming down his face.  
  
“Don’t go?”  
  
“Fuck. Yeah, no. I’m not going. Can we go to the bathroom? I need to clean you up.” JJ looked around, the rust stains on the too white hotel sheets. This was going to be fucking awful in the morning.

“Yeah, I can do that.” As long as Yuri kept holding his hands.

* * *

“So what’s next?” Otabek asked, nursing what he was pretty sure was his third cup of coffee today. He wasn’t entirely sure, all the stops and pick me ups sort of blended together in the whirlwind trip.

Isabella sighed, opting for tea herself. They had made it to her parents house already, but she insisted treating. Otabek for all his help. Even though she paid for their greasy diner food on their trip down. But it was one of this obligatory social graces that would extend the timer before having to knock on her parents door.

Otabek would like to say he knew Isabella fairly well. They weren’t the closest friends, but he knew a lot about her. She always fussed with her hair and makeup when she was nervous. She worked tirelessly to get what she wanted, whether it be a degree, Jean-Jacques Leroy or her own independence. Just like all the fragile athletes she surrounded herself with, she despised failure.

Otabek was sure that knocking on her parents door would feel an awful lot like failure to her. 

“I don’t know.” She fussed with the teabag in the paper cup. “I keep trying to tell myself I don’t need to figure that out right now.”  
  
“You don’t.” Otabek fought for eye contact, trying to show how sincere he was.  
  
“I know. But it feels like I do.” She took a cautious sip of her tea. As if it would be too hot even though they’ve been sitting there for easily twenty minutes.  
  
“Would you like me to help you bring your things in?” Otabek offered, there was a lot more to the question that wasn’t said. He was relieved that Isabella laughed.  
  
“I can do it myself, Otabek.”  
  
“I know you can.” He spoke too quickly, and had to clear his throat to regain his tempo. “I just wanted to let you know that the offer is there.” She took huge gulps of tea, Otabek wondered if it was just to make him wait. She put down the empty cup and smoothed her dress before she stood.  
  
“Thank you, Otabek. I’ll keep it in mind.” She smiled. Otabek had to hide away the lightning fast thought what kissing Isabella would be like. If he’d have a little cherry stain on his own lips. But he shoved them away as fast as they came because Otabek knew it’s not right and it’s not good.

Otabek really wanted to be good. 

* * *

JJ woke up feeling far more hungover than he could even remember drinking. He tried to quantify it. There was champagne, he mostly licked it off Yuri.

Fuck that was not a good start.

He didn’t dare sit up, his head pounded and his limbs felt heavy. He shifted, feeling the bandages on his hand. Right. Fuck. He saw his shattered phone on the night stand and screwed his eyes shut to brace for the wave of nausea. This part was always the worst, it left him feeling so empty. Every fucking thing he’d have do would be twice as strenuous. He had another interview to do, and just thinking about it gave him pangs in his head and heart.

What felt even worse was radiating body heat next to him. The idea of facing Yuri felt like a death sentence. He was surprised he was still here, no one usually lasted this long when he acted like this. He pulled the blanket over his head, and apparently sighed too loudly because Yuri sat up. JJ sighed, running a quick hand through his hair before rising with Yuri. Like shifting his bed head in a certain direction was going to paint the picture of a stable man.

“Princess.” He did his best to smile. “We both have to get ready, why don’t you get dressed, I’ll call a cab for you-”  
  
“I cancelled it. Called Katsudon last night, we’ll do it remotely next month.” Yuri looked at him square in the eye and JJ couldn’t help but wince. “It wasn’t a big deal. Really. I cleared out your whole day. I figure we need to get you a new phone but that’s it. We can just get brunch or whatever.”

JJ sunk back into bed, letting himself process all the words Yuri was saying. Digesting everything made him dizzy. He couldn’t quantify or prioritize his thoughts, it made him feel lost in his own head space. He didn’t want to leave the bed. Part of him still wanted to kick Yuri out and keep the lights off until his flight back. 

Then it hit him like a sucker punch. That he had to go back. That his apartment was full of designer furniture, but it would feel so empty. He wondered what Isabella took. What happened to the things that didn’t have a fine line of his or hers. Who got the stand mixer from his parents, the gaudy wall art that they got from their friends as a housewarming gift. What would become of the in between? His throat was tight, and his stomach dropped. But no tears came.  
  
“You can sleep more. There’s no hurry.” Yuri yawned, getting out of bed and padding to the bathroom unabashedly naked. There was no point in hiding anymore anyways, JJ guessed.  
  
JJ tried to think of his next move, listening to the tap run in the bathroom, but the buzzing was too loud he completely shut down. All he could do was stare at the guts of his phone and let shame cover him like the down alternative comforter he cocooned himself in.  
  
Yuri returned with a cup of water, placing it so JJ’s view was so completely distorted. He couldn’t recognize the view of his phone through the glass.  
  
“Drink. You’ll feel better.” Yuri moved back to his side of the bed, prying some of the covers from JJ and letting himself in as JJ took huge gulps of water. When JJ laid back down, they were eye level. It was uncomfortable, but he couldn’t look away.  
  
“Can you.... hold me?” It sounded strange coming out of his own mouth. He couldn’t remember the last time he asked anyone for something like this. He had to be young, asking Mama whenever he felt bad about something. It made him feel a little weak. A little pathetic.  
  
But Yuri’s arms around his naked body was one of the best sensations he could think of recently. They were so strong around him, and he felt so warm.  
  
“You’re really needy for a hookup, you know that?” JJ could feel Yuri smile into his chest, like it was their little secret that both of them knew he didn’t mean it.

* * *

When Otabek saw the instagram post, he frowned. 

The fact that he frowned makes the ends of his mouth crease even deeper.  
  
It was just Jean. He was holding a cat, crossing it’s arms and smiling in that far-too-wide way that only JJ did.  
  
_If kitty had thumbs, I’m sure she’d JJ Style!_  
  
It was a dumb post, in all honesty. JJ looked too happy for someone who just had their fiance leave them. It was uncouth. It was like he wasn’t taking it seriously, or Isabella seriously. the thing that bothered him more, even if he didn’t want to admit it, is that he recognized the cafe he was outside of.  
  
He also recognized the hand flipping him off, barely in frame. He’d always recognize any part of Yuri.

He opened his messaging app. Realizing all at once that neither of them had messaged him in awhile. That should be good, Otabek was being the bigger person by not letting them use him as a crutch. Not letting Jean fixate on the parts of him that he twisted to be larger than life. Not to let Yuri make mistakes he was too young to understand.  
  
Why did it make him feel so goddamn lonely then?  
  
Otabek hated it, and he wouldn’t let something so petty get him riled up. Without giving himself time to think, he messaged the one person who he knew would reply.  
  
_You’ve never seen my Almaty, have you? You should come when you need a change of scenery._  
  
There was barely time for his heart to skip a beat. He could envision the toothy grin spread around her cherry lips.  
  
_I’d like that._


	3. I will be your Freudian slip

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One million and one thank yous to Thoughtsappear and Softieghost for holding my hand and letting me talk their ears off about this. I love you both tons and tons and tons and you're Beta-ing means more to me than you can ever know <3

As much as Otabek wouldn’t allow himself to dwell on it, he never thought that Isabella Yang could become more beautiful. He was forced to admit this to himself, but only because he found out he couldn’t have been more incorrect.  
  
In the orange glow of the Almaty sunset, she was positively ethereal.

Maybe it was the long draws of rich wine or the emotional rush of adventure, but Otabek was finding it much easier to admit that he was not resistant to Isabella’s magnetic charm.  
  
“I wasn’t expecting you so soon. It was a nice surprise.” Otabek smiled, taking taking a small bite of Basturma. Isabella was out pacing him in wine.  
  
“A change of scenery felt right.” She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, the gentle breeze was not enough to keep it from moving. She poked at the last few leaves of her salad, scraping up every last piece she could in a tactful manner. Her eyes quickly meandered to Otabek’s plate. He had well over half of his his meal, delectable as ever. The scent was so thick in the air. The aromas, the Jewel tone sky and the heavy wine. The entire scene was decadent. The sly smile on Isabella’s face was no different. She pointed a sharp acrylic nail at Otabek, he swore he could feel it pierce his heart.  
  
“Let me try.” A statement wrapped between teeth.  
  
“Are you sure? It’s certainly not for everyone.” Otabek had vivid flashbacks of sitting in almost the exact same place, shortly after Barcelona with Yuri Plisetsky. Yuri said he wanted to cash in on his visit. Otabek expected a certain level of tension. The air looming with unsaid words but too loud thoughts. Yuri insisted to get what Otabek was having. Yuri’s screwed up face trying to choke it down was burned into memory.  
  
She tilted her head to the side. “Do you think I would like it?” Otabek had to ponder for a moment. He wasn’t familiar with Isabella’s palate. But he knew she was brave, and appreciated things that were more complex.  
  
“Perhaps not at first, but I think you could acquire the taste over time.” Her eyes had a glint like sunlight or city lights, something like possibility. She batted her lashes expectantly.  
  
Ah.  
  
Otabek cut off a particularly savory morsel of meat, gently scooping it on his fork before leaning in, extending his arm across the table so Isabella could reach with little effort. She leaned in, wrapping her lips around the fork greedily. Otabek hated how he kept being proven wrong. The warmth on her cheeks, the warped smile around his fork, the small hums of approval.  
  
“It’s delicious.” She sounded surprised, flicking her tongue out to catch the juices on her lip.  
  
He kept finding more of her beauty in each passing moment.

* * *

JJ had every intention of dealing with his phone by himself. He shattered it, and he would pick up every single shard. It’s how things always were. The task was always so arduous. The fog made every step harder, and he never knew where he was going. It always left him light headed and weary.  
  
But it wasn’t quite as hard with Yuri all but dragging him to get things done. JJ had a moment to just, lean his head back and let him be washed out under the flourescent light. There was something almost...calming about this. There was no pressure to interact, other than feeding Yuri one word answers whenever he’d tug at his sleeve. Each touch felt like heaven. Like Yuri was a guardian angel to keep him from getting lost in the dull glow of his own thoughts. When Yuri grabbed him by the hand, dragging him out of the crowded store. JJ was happy to to be taken at his mercy.  
  
Yuri led him to some tiny hole in the wall kind of place. JJ couldn’t tell it was even a restaurant from outside. They sat down at a worn table made from time aged teak. The only other patrons were old men, noses deep into the daily paper. It didn’t seem like the kind of place that Yuri would frequent. JJ barely noticed Yuri chattering to the waitress in breakneck Russian. He was still trying to absorb the surroundings. He felt like he left half his mind in his hotel room, the world rotating so much faster than he could process.  
  
“What do you like?” Yuri spoke in English, which snapped JJ to attention. He dully returned his attention back to the menu, as if the cyrillic would mean anything to him. He gave Yuri a look, a moment of naked concern shown in the angle of his mouth and brows.

  
“I don’t know.” He sighed, raking a hand through his hair. “Just grab me something good?”

Yuri gave him an unimpressed look, but directed his attention back to the waitress in the same speed and veracity he spoke with before. Yuri kept pace,JJ simply examined all the splinters sticking out on the parts of the table that were especially worn. He was tempted to run his fingers over the rough wood. He focused on Yuri instead.

 

* * *

_I hate myself_

Everything was in shadow but so blown out at the same time. It was had to contextualize, to really get a firm grasp. His arms felt independent of his mind, as if he couldn’t remember how to use his bones. Synapses weren’t firing, there was a connection. He digested bleary pops of color. Beige walls, bordeaux sheets, sandy blond curls and skin. Lots and lots of skin.

Oh. He was doing it again.  
  
He was still only getting bits of the burnt out picture in his view, but some of the gaps were filling. It was so whiskey drenched he could only make out the shapes. The warmth of hands on his back, fingers digging into his skin. He could barely feel it. He could only tell he was getting fucked because he finally tuned into the sound of slapping skin.  
  
A part of JJ wanted to process - why?  But it didn’t matter. He kept grabbing drinks, kept getting louder just to be heard. To latch on to whoever felt enamored with noise. Isabella wasn’t here this time, so it was a lot easier to fall into this kind of thing. To drink, to feel, to forget, to fuck, to feel. He felt powerless to the cycle and even though he wasn’t fully aware of all the thoughts like waves echoing in his head, he still felt the sting of guilt so much more than the cock in his ass.

_I hate myself I hate myself I hate myself_

“Darling.”  
  
JJ’s body fell, not realizing that he was propped up in the first place.  
  
“You’re not okay. I don’t want to hurt you.”  
  
JJ felt his lips move, vaguely aware of slurred french pouring from his mouth. It was too loud but felt so soft - all vowels and emotion and not terribly coherent.  
  
He was met with glassy hazel eyes, and a pitiful smile. JJ screwed his eyes shut. He couldn’t stand to be looked at any longer.

* * *

  
“Sandwiches are supposed to have two pieces of bread. I thought this was universally accepted.”  
  
Yuri puffed his cheeks out, plopping himself on the edge of the river, swinging his legs through the air a little too fast to be casual.  
  
“North America ruined your palate. You wouldn’t know good food.” Yuri grabbed a fist full of the grass, tossing it off the side. JJ was fascinated, watching them dance and intertwine as the floated to the water.  
  
“I ate some of the _finest_ cuisine Canada had to offer, I’ll have you know.” With Bella, left unsaid. JJ sighed, plopping himself next to Yuri. Any smile he had was cleared off of his face. He was tempted to yank out bright green blades of grass like Yuri did. “I mostly just ate to my meal plan though. You know how it is, grilled chicken and steamed veggies everyday.”  
  
“Oh my god you can’t cook.” Yuri turned to him, mischief sparkling in his eyes. “You can eat so much shit on your nutrition plan. Grandpa and I cooked a lot. I’m really good at it.” Yuri beamed. JJ was enjoyed the gentle breeze from Yuri’s swinging legs. Yuri turned to him, twisting his mouth into something uncomfortable. His jaw hung open with a hesitant breath before speaking. “I can teach you?” JJ couldn’t help but laugh, and almost felt bad when Yuri glared at him.

“I’m a picky eater, princess.” The teasing name was awkward in his mouth. Without a playful lilt or seductive breathiness it felt clumsy.  
  
“You’re ridiculous. I swore if I cooked for you, you’d love it. You’re just being stubborn.” Yuri grabbed another fistful of grass.  
  
The light fell through the canopy and lay on Yuri’s face, making his expression hard to read. JJ wasn’t sure, but his eyes sparkled in the light and looked more blue than green in contrast to shadow. JJ was pretty sure he was smiling. He couldn’t help but return the sentiment.

* * *

“He hasn’t texted you? At all?” Otabek placed his glass down on the ledge of his balcony. The lights of Almaty shined in the night like lazy ocean waves. Isabella shook her head. Her cheeks were slightly flushed, peachy orange in the yellow glow of his balcony sconce. The bulb was slightly burned out, but the hazy softness of the view around him was comforting.  
  
“It’s better this way. It’ll hurt the least.” Isabella didn’t smile as she spoke, and it was somehow more intimate than watching her peel off her sheer tights like a second skin. Otabek tightened his lips into a straight line, reaching for his phone in his pocket. The glow of the time white numbers was almost blinding. Zero notifications. He couldn’t help but frown at the at screen as it dimmed down to a soft glow of othingness. He placed his phone out of sight. He was compelled to close the gap between himself and Isabella, taking a draught from his glass as moved.  
  
“Otabek.” Isabella leaned onto the ledge, resting her breasts on her arms. “Thank you for this. I needed this.” Her eyes had a certain flatness to them, it made Otabek’s throat feel tight. He rested a hand on top of hers, acutely aware of the weight of his phone in his pocket. He realized he might have made a horrible mistake.  
  
He needed Isabella much more than she needed him.

* * *

“Yuri! Let me help!” Yuri swatted his hand at JJ. He was tugging at his apron straps with a dumb grin on his face.

Despite his grunts, Yuri couldn't keep up a menacing facade. This was the first time where JJ’s smile seemed to fit his face. It wasn’t too small or forced, nor was it painfully wide. It was comfortable and familiar. It sent pins and needles that were addicting as they were was uncomfortable. Yuri moved on the balls of his feet unconsciously, feeling the need to act with caution. It was a feeling he hadn’t experienced since he first moved into the apartment on his own.

  
“You said you’d teach me!” JJ whined, sliding his arms over Yuri’s shoulders. “What are you doing? Explain it, sweetness.”  
  
Yuri made a sour face and plopped his ball of dough down on the cutting board with a small cloud of flour. “I’m _trying_ to knead this dough, but _someone_ is making it difficult.” JJ only leaned more of his weight on Yuri.  
  
“What are we making again? Piro-” JJ took a breath, trying to work through the syllables “Pirokoies?”  
  
“ _Pirozhkis,_ ” Yuri spoke slowly, and watched JJ slowly mimic the mouth movements, getting the muscle memory of the syllables around his lips. It was childlike, and decidedly not cool or ‘JJ Style’ in the slightest. Yuri bit the inside of his mouth to keep from smiling too hard.  
  
“Pirozhki.” JJ muttered in a puff, with breezy constants. The feeling of it sent a small shiver down his spine. “This isn’t to anyone's diet plan, Yuri.” JJ played with the ends of Yuri’s messy ponytail, Yuri didn’t bother to swat him away again.  
  
“No. But it’s the most delicious thing ever, and they’re my specialty.” Yuri couldn’t help but preen. He thought of Lilia’s taut features turning soft after he twisted her arm into trying one, which was even harder than it sounded after he completely trashed her kitchen. But the look on her face was totally worth it. She ate the entire thing, which was a feast by Lilia standards. Yuri had never seen her eat more than some leafy bullshit or a small piece of fruit in the time he spent in her home. There was a part of him that was just as excited to see JJ’s reaction.

For awhile, it was quiet. The occasional impressed hum from JJ, or brief noncommittal statements that didn’t ask for a response. He shifted and paced, but never took his eyes off Yuri’s hands. He watched in absolute rapt attention, as if he was performing complex alchemy.

“You’re really good at this.” JJ was sitting on Yuri’s opposite counter swinging his feet gently. There was something so simple to all of this, that made his heart swell. JJ’s smile wasn’t his superstar megawatt one you saw on posters and TV. It was something much softer, and it lit the room like a candle. Yuri breathed in the rich scent, it made the air his apartment heady. Everything was dull and warm, the calm washed over him in a way he hadn’t felt in years. He couldn’t put his finger on it.

“Did your mom teach you?” JJ’s voice was soft, but it cracked like a whip through Yuri’s haze. He felt death seep through his veins, his body slowly growing cold. If Yuri was frowning, he couldn’t tell. He couldn’t feel his features at all. He took a kitchen towel, wiping the flour off his face.

  
“No.”

* * *

Isabella noticed Otabek stir. He didn’t flail frequently like JJ, vigorously scratching the back of his undercut. They were actions with the same emotion, but shrunk down to a barely noticeable degree. A hand hovering over his pocket, fingers twitching just a touch before pulling away. The redness of a thumbnail from gripping the stem of his glass too hard. They were all things she knew, things she picked up from watching across a highschool classroom.

"Otabek.” She kept her tones hushed, as if keeping secrets from someone in another room. She pauses for a moment, to shift the words in her head. She wants to ask. If it was JJ she’d ask a string of questions, a winding trail to find out how he was feeling. Otabek didn’t respond to question begging nearly as much. It was  nice. Isabella was a direct person and being able to speak in her language and have it understood was comforting. “What’s wrong?”

  
Otabek exhaled with flared nostrils. He let go of his drink, and let his body sink into his couch. The furrow of his brow showed the cogs in his mind turning, filtering through his feelings to find the exact words. Isabella wouldn’t dare rush him, she folded her bare feet underneath her thighs, making herself as small as possible on the couch.  
  
“Am I using you?” Otabek looks her dead in the eye as he speaks. The weight of his tone and pierce of his gaze make Isabella hot, and a little scared. She wraps both hands around her glass. Her wine was long warm at this point, and it burned whenever she took a sip. She tucked it close to her body.  
  
“No.” It was an easy question, she just needed some thought. What was happening was fairly undeniable at this point. Flying across the ocean for drinks wasn’t something that _just friends_ did. She knew in that tiny diner back in Montreal precisely what she was getting into, and told herself she’d move forward, fearless. “I told you, I needed this.” She placed her drink on the table, shifting her body to face Otabek.  
  
“I’m frightened I need you more. I can’t put you in that place.” Otabek pivoted himself in turn. His brow was furrowed, but he never broke his gaze with Isabella. “ I don’t want you to be needed again.”  
  
Fearlessness was not brashness. It wasn’t walking forward without regard for what was in the path of ahead of you, it was math. It was calculating risk and reward and seeing where you fit into the equation to net the most gain. It wasn’t pretending that you had pain, pushing it inside with a fake smile. Isabella had to remind herself, as it was incredibly hard to feel fearless sobbing in Otabek’s arm yet again.

* * *

“Yura.” Grandpa pulled his scarf away from his mouth. His voice was gravely, he had probably been smoking again. Yuri barely looked up from his lap. He had no idea how long he’d been sitting on their old porch swing. His fingers were blue at the tips. “I need help cooking, won’t you come inside?” Yuri stayed stock still, looking at his shoes again.  
  
“I don’t really feel like it.” Yuri couldn’t be anything less than honest. He didn’t really feel like much of anything.  
  
“Could you do it for your Grandpa? I’m lonely, Yuri.” Of course Grandpa was honest in turn. It was him that taught Yuri how important it was. Grandpa taught Yuri a lot. He slid off the swing, and followed him silently into their oak toned kitchen. He let Yuri knead the dough (it was his favorite part) but he couldn’t work with his normal voracity. Yuri usually punched and abused the ball of dough, Grandpa would laugh at him and tell him not go so hard. Instead he lazy flipped the lump on the flour dusted formica counter top, barely working it.

“Do you miss her, Yura?” Grandpa chopped meticulously on the old oak cutting board that was worn down to all cuts and ridges. Grandpa didn’t look at him.  
  
“I don’t know.” Yuri sunk his fingers into the dough. The thumping of the knife on the cutting board rang in his ear drums. He thought a lot about this question. He thought about it when grown ups with familiar shaped faces but the features of a stranger said he was brave for not crying. He thought about it on the silent car ride home. He thought about every night before going to bed, and every morning when the sun rose. He thought about all night long when he didn’t sleep. His mouth turned into a frown, tight and angry.  
  
“That’s okay Yura. It’s not something you need to know now.” Yuri’s face scrunched up tighter, and Grandpa stopped cutting to look at him. “You know, a lot of people don’t use talking to say how they feel. Some people paint pictures, or make music.” He wiped his hands down his apron. “That skater you like so much, Viktor? I think he shows his feelings in his skating. You can do that too, Yuratchka.”    
  
“I’m done with the dough, Grandpa.” Yuri knows his speaking is forced. He felt like he was reciting something he didn’t care for in class. It was too cold for his grandpa. He simply takes his hands out of the dough, rubbing them on his own apron before setting himself down at the table and letting Grandpa creak around the kitchen, in that slow way. It felt like a long time, or maybe a blink, before he was seated at the table next to Yuri. There were two glasses of juice. Yuri didn’t hesitate to take a sip. It wasn’t as sweet as Yuri remembered.  
  
“Was Mama one of those people that didn’t talk with talking?” Yuri put the glass back down on the table. His eyes were met with Grandpa’s crinkly smile.  
  
“She was.” Grandpa spoke with a fondness that was familiar to Yuri, but he couldn’t fully understand it.  
  
“What did Mama do?”  The timer went off with a sharp ring. Grandpa stood up with a pop of bone and a low groan. When the oven opened, the strong smell completely filled the kitchen. It was enticing, and Yuri had to get up and sneak a peek to see how they came out. Grandpa held out the black baking sheet so Yuri could better look. The Pirozhki were golden brown, and almost all the exact same size.  
  
“Your mother was a fabulous cook. She put a lot of love into her food, a real talent on her.” Yuri hummed. He reached out for one of the pastries even though it was still a little too hot to eat. He wrapped in a napkin, and simply held it close. The warmth felt good against his hands. Yuri waited, trying to ebb off too many thoughts as he blew on his food. Despite his best effort, he couldn’t keep himself from wracking his brain, trying to recall if Mama ever cooked for him.

* * *

Isabella was tired. The kind of tired that generous coats of Estee Lauder couldn’t even hide. She studied her reflection in her coffee cup. Her eyeliner was uneven, and as she frowned she regretted the bright red lip that made her skin look more malnourished than porcelain. She plopped a sugar cube in the cup, feeling no better about the way the ripples distorted her face. She uncapped her highlighter with a sigh, taking a huge gulp of coffee and opening her book. A young waitress set down a massive slice of cake.  
  
“Do you need anything else?” She spoke in broken English, and Isabella gave her a sympathetic smile for putting her out.  
  
“No, thank you.” The waitress nodded, and Isabella turned to her book. Her eyes burned, scanning over the type, but she forced herself to keep reading. She was so ahead of the syllabus for the semester, but looming deadlines still made her feel incredibly anxious. She knew she shouldn’t stress so much about it, she didn’t see herself pursuing literature, she didn’t need stellar grades in the course. She also knew it wasn’t the deadlines that were making her feel that way. She snuffed out the thoughts with a huge bite of chocolate cake.

She tapped the capped end of the highlighter against the page. She flipped over to the tip side before a sharp voice grabbed her attention.  
  
“Hey, hey you’re uh, JJ’s wife? Izzy?” a whirlwind of red hair and fruity perfume rolled up to Isabella’s booth, making no mind to plop herself down across from her like an old friend. Isabella was very aware of Mila Babicheiva from JJ’s hyperactive rants after competitions.  
  
“Fiance,” she corrects, but the words don’t have bite around her weak smile. “And it’s Isabella.” No one has called her Izzy since elementary school. It was a little uncomfortable to hear.  
  
“Izzy is cuter. Oh my god, that looks _sinful._ I’d kill for cake for breakfast.” Mila’s eyes were blown, her painted pink lips curling into a smile. Isabella’s own smile was uncomfortably tight on her face. She hoped she had enough blush to mask the embarrassment on her face.  
  
“Would you like some? There’s no way I can finish this on my own.” If Isabella had her privacy, she’d devour it it record time. But in public, she only took one delicate bite.  
  
“Oh god, I couldn’t. Not before I skate. One time I vommed after a short program and Yakov wouldn’t let me forget it for for years. Thank you though. Where’s JJ?”

Isabella hummed, busying her mouth with another bite. She laughed with a closed mouth, giving Mila sympathetic eyes. Isabella already knew she was going to say. _I wanted to let him rest, he has a big day. He works too hard._ None of it was a lie, but it felt like one. Enough was left unsaid that made her feel like she was selling snake oil.

Mila’s eyes were curious. She could probably see the cogs in Isabella’s mind turn. Or maybe it was just the bags under her eyes. Her look asked enough questions that made Isabella want to break. She wanted to kick down the wall she erected herself. _He was out practicing until 4. He came back and sobbed. He pushed me away when I held him. He kept saying sorry sorry sorry. He didn’t sleep, but he couldn’t say anything. I couldn’t say anything. It made my skin crawl and I had to leave. I have no idea what I’m doing._

She swallowed.

“I wanted to let him rest, he has a big day. He works too hard.” 

“Wow, you’re an angel. None of my boyfriends ever even came to my competitions. He’s a lucky guy.” Despite what she said, Mila reached out and swiped her finger over a thick frosting rose, licking it off.  
  
“He’s sweet. He deserves it.”

Isabella closed her book, keeping her eyes on the table. She wished she was lying. The pearls of truth that made her stories sound so real,  hurt so bad. JJ was sweet. JJ would buy her coffee when they studied, JJ knew all of her favorite foods and knew exactly what she liked to wear. She’d get an egg white omelette to go, with mushrooms and tomato, just how he liked. He’d lean down and call her baby, sweetheart or treasure. She’d smile back, kiss his cheek. They wouldn’t talk about it, they never did. They’d just clutch their deep ocean pearls close to their hearts, and eyelids shut tight. When her eyes were closed, it was like the darkness was always there, nothing foreign or frightening. Isabella watched Mila swipe the rest of the rose to her lips in a lightning motion.

“Oh my god, why is chocolate so good. You need to take this away from me before I make myself sick.” Mila laughed, shoving the plate back to her. Isabella laughed with her, and it was a little too loud.  
  
“I know, I can’t help myself!” She took another bite.

* * *

“Princess! That was amazing!”

Yuri rolled his eyes into the back of his head. The compliment was nice, yes. The first three times. JJ was starting to sound like a broken record. Even still, it made his insides feel like sunlight warm every time he said it. Yuri was running so hot, even in the bitter winter air of his apartment. Yuri tossed the rest of his pirozkhi into his pyrex, and slid it on an empty shelf in his fridge.

“Criminal!” he could hear his grandpa guffaw in the deep recesses of his mind. But Yuri no longer had the voracious appetite of his youth to eat them all fresh - or at least learned the restraint not to. It was a hard sell for him to stop after three, and a significantly harder sell to JJ. But he knew it was for the best. 

“I know. You’ve told me once or twice.” Yuri retorted with a shut of the fridge door. JJ just smiled back at him.  
  
“Why don’t you cook more often? I didn’t even know you could.”  He was bouncing on the balls of his feet gently, as if there was music playing that Yuri couldn’t hear. Yuri pursed his lips into a thin line.  
  
“It’s for special occasions.” JJ was absolutely beaming at him. He looked ridiculous, somehow covered in flour even though he didn’t cook.  
  
“You know you don’t have to do dishes. I said you didn’t have to clean the counters either. I don’t care.” Yuri moved to shut the water off.

The air was filled with the acidic smell of his orange dish soap, the scent was less sharp in his nostrils. JJ looked at him like a child caught with their hand in the cookie jar. Yuri knew that JJ cleaning was mostly for himself. JJ _needed_ to clean up or else he’d feel some kind of ass backwards guilt that Yuri didn’t understand. It was stupid and JJ _insisted._

“Let me finish. Go take a shower, you’re a mess.” Yuri hip checked him for good measure, taking his place. JJ smiled again soft and padded away with gentle foot falls like he knows where all the creaky boards were. It was weird how fast JJ careened into his life, and how easy it was to accept. It was weird how it felt like he’d been in his home for a million years, but made the things that Yuri was used to feel foreign. Even the same dish soap smelled different when JJ wasn’t around.

It was really fucking weird.

For the first time in a long time Yuri just sat down on his couch, cocooned in his favorite blanket and did nothing in particular. He scanned every inch of his apartment, getting lost with familiarizing himself with things he saw every day but now felt brand new. 

“Oh princess, I’m freezing, tell me you have dry clothes I can fit into.” JJ stood before him, shivering, with just a towel around his waist. Yuri didn’t miss a beat to unravel his blanket, offering it out with one arm. Another blink and JJ was right beside him. He curled himself up, knees to chest, to fit beside Yuri. He almost looked small. Yuri saw the cuts that trailed from the back of his hand to his palm. He reached out to hold it in his own, very gingerly, like antique waterford crystal.  
  
“Does it hurt?”  
  
“It’s fine.” He winced, Yuri knew it wasn’t because of his touch. “A little.”  
  
The cuts were different shades of glowing pinks and deep mournful reds. It was different from the cuts on his thighs. There was something living, throbbing, too hot. It sensation made Yuri acutely aware of adrenaline coursing through his veins. He had a desperate desire to do _something_ , like there was a timer no one had set. He acted on his gut instinct, and with no hesitation gently pressed his lips against JJ’s palm.  
  
“Yuri...” He spoke, breathless. His frown curled and left worried lines down his face. Yuri licked his lips, and leaned up to meet their mouths. He knew he couldn’t kiss the worry away. Maybe he could bide the time until he had a better answer.

* * *

Fucking Yuri like this was so different. No frantic need to pull and take and scream. It wasn't a three legged race to orgasm that tasted like bronze. Fucking was too harsh of a word. Perhaps it made Jean-Jacques a cliche fool, but it felt a lot like _making love_. With Yuri’s hair splayed out, cheeks flush, pink lips breathing his name like a prayer - you could have told him these were thousand thread count sheets in Hotel Le Crystal and he would’ve believed it. Having Yuri like this felt how he imagined losing his virginity on his wedding night.

He moved his hips in tide pool waves, slow and fluid to feel every ridge of Yuri’s body. He drank in every expression, a portrait being painted before his eyes. He was becoming more vivid, more vibrant, whole. Yuri glowing with sweat underneath his body was one of most beautiful sights he had ever seen. It left him lost for his tongue for dirty talk. The tongue used to suck nipples red, the one drank his own cum straight from Yuri’s hole and forced into his mouth. He felt defenseless. He used to keep things physical, to fill his body with sensations so he didn’t have to feel so much. What he was left with all the remains emotions long rusted and cumbersome from dormancy. He had unearthed syllables echoing over and over that rattled through his head, thumping into his ribcage. They beat so loud, begging to escape. For once Jean-Jacques as smart enough to keep them captive. Those words had been his own demise time and again. He could still cherish without words. He trailed kisses across Yuri’s jaw. Licked his sweat off his neck, tears off his cheeks. He used it to worship in all the ways he never could, to apologize for taking so much. 

“ _Jeh-Jeh,_ ” Yuri’s eyes were glassy, with rose dew skin flushed from brow to chest. “I’m gonna, gonna cum-”

JJ pushed his lips over Yuri, and wrapped his arms around as tight as he could. he thrust as deep as he could. He knew that they’d both be sticky with cum afterwards, but it was a pittance price to pay to be as humanly close to Yuri Plisetsky as he could. Yuri writhed as he came, screaming. JJ moaned into his mouth, screaming in his mind as he worked himself through his own orgasm in a few rough thrusts.  
  
_I love you_ .  
  
No, Jean-Jacques. Not yet.

**Author's Note:**

> If you eat your own cum Jesus still knows.


End file.
